


Third Time Get Lucky

by DancingDowager



Series: It's Bugging Me: Lovebug Story [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, Laith, M/M, POV Lance (Voltron), Smut, klance, safe happy boys having a good time, they talk about it first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 20:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18630841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingDowager/pseuds/DancingDowager
Summary: Lance wants to take his relationship with Keith to the next level. Pity he doesn't have a clue how. Fortunately, Pidge is way ahead of them.Takes place after the events of 'Once Bitten, Twice Shy' but can be read as a stand-alone.





	Third Time Get Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy this silly little interlude, and thanks again to those who supported 'Once Bitten, Twice Shy'. You guys are the best.

Lance hadn’t been counting the times he kissed Keith. Nope. That’s be weird, right? Obviously, he’s kissed enough people enough times to outgrow the need for a running total. If someone were to really press him, and he happened to know the number was between a hundred-and-sixty and a hundred-and-eighty-five, (depending on how you reckoned a make-out session: how long did you have to pause for breath for it to count as a new kiss? Five second rule?), well then it wouldn’t be because he was some kind of creep, okay? He just happened to have a great memory. For kissing Keith, anyway. He remembered every single one.

He didn’t have a favourite, no matter how many times he thought about it. He honestly treasured the first hurried press of mouths and bumped teeth and noses as much as the sweet, giddy kisses that came after it; fluttering in his chest like a held breath, a dopey smile lingering on his face until the others teased it off. They’d taken their time with each other, discovering that too much touch at once left Keith overwhelmed and prickly as a particularly stand-offish porcupine on a bad day. Easing into it had been worth it for the kisses they grew into: a surprise brush of lips to temple, stolen when they sparred; quickfire kisses Lance rained over Keith’s cheekbones and jaw in response, rich with the pop and snap of champagne; just as likely to get him drunk. Something changed after a battle they nearly lost, when their shaking hands found each other and, holding on, Lance felt like all the shattered pieces of him were being re-forged _via_ his mouth. Things went quicker after that.

But when it was late, and Lance was in bed with his memories and the thought of dark hair fanned against his pillow, he found himself thinking of the others. Kisses that started slow, sparks from a bonfire, heating up until long ropes of molten metal were dripping down his chest and coiling low in his belly. Kisses that lingered, hands wandering; Keith’s skin always warm while Lance’s was cool. They’d wind up panting shared breath, flushed and pink until they finally cracked their eyes open and found the others’ dark and dizzy and Lance was ready to lose his mind just _knowing_ something was going to happen.

And then, it didn’t.

The Galra had _terrible_ timing. It was in Lance’s top five worst things about the evil Empire. One time, when he’d finally got his hands on… had some _quality_ time with Keith, they actually got as far as sliding palms up one another’s shirts to feel their beating hearts when an alarm made them jump out of their skins, rather than their pants. Bumped heads and curses later, Lance discovered just how difficult it was to slide into the skin-tight undersuit with a semi. He was never more viciously glad to take out a battlecruiser.

Even if, for once, the Galra weren’t being difficult; their friends were. Allura called for drills at random times. Hunk appeared in sudden clouds of vanilla-ish sweetness to have them sample his latest culinary experiment, and wow, Lance never thought that would be bad thing until now. It was amazing how, despite the sheer size of the Castleship, someone always seemed to be right around the corner: forcing them to break apart and pretend they weren’t doing exactly what their ruffled hair and heaving chests suggested. Just the other day Lance had been happily buried in the sofa cushions under a-hundred-and-forty pounds of hot boyfriend, hands full of what he sincerely hoped was Keith’s ass, when Shiro walked in on them. What had been going very nicely ended in a red-faced discussion about what was acceptable in communal spaces and uncomfortable pressure in his jeans.

Worst of all was when they just... stopped. Lance’s veins would be boiling, clutching whatever bit of Keith he could reach when he felt him slip away from his fingers, heavy breaths failing to fill the gulf between them as they fizzled out. Embarrassed looks and excuses later, his heart would sink to where the molten metal was cooling into heavy lumps like the one in his throat, all his dizzy expectation of _something_ dying before it began.

It had been weeks. Nine weeks and six days in fact, and Lance had had enough. Or rather he hadn’t, which was the problem... and the reason he came to be standing outside Keith’s bedroom long after Shiro-approved bedtime.

Around him, the Castle of Lions had settled into simulated night; bright aqua glow deepened to something more restful. The background hum of the Castle’s systems was always present, but seemed lower and more noticeable at night, like its own version of snoring. Otherwise, the smooth, featureless walls made this corridor look like any other. He could be standing outside his own bedroom door, or Hunk’s, but this was _Keith’s_ , and he’d been staring at it for ten minutes now without knocking.

His knuckles were a hairsbreadth from the surface when Lance was startled out of his slippers.

“Gross,” said Pidge. Lance yelped and spun to fill the doorway, hands slamming into the frame as though he could body-block sound. The low gleam on Pidge’s glasses came into view ahead of the rest of her; still dressed with a metal box tucked under one arm.

“What are you doing here?” Lance demanded, keeping his voice down in the vain hope this spectacle could be kept between the two of them. And not, you know, the guy he really needed to impress. Pidge raised an eyebrow, pushing her glasses up her nose with a finger. Her grin was feral.

“Me? I’m not the one sneaking into their _boyfriend’s_ bedroom this late.” She said ‘boyfriend’ in sing-song, like a child, and Lance’s face heated up before he remembered he was too old to find that embarrassing.

“I am not sneaking -” he began in a hot hiss, but that only spread the smirk on the Green Paladin’s face.

“Oh, so Keith is expecting a booty call?”

“ _Pidge!_ ”

Pidge chuckled when Lance slapped a hand over his mouth, looking askance at the door. He waited until he was sure Keith wasn’t moving inside before folding his arms to glare at the girl. She looked coolly back, completely unfazed. Lance wished he was dressed; he felt oddly defenceless against her in his Altean pyjama set.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, closing in like a shark smelling blood in the water. “You take my cleaning duties for a month and I don’t mention to Shiro that I saw you here.”

“A month?!” Lance squeaked, hastily glancing at the door again. He continued in a fierce whisper. “No way. A week.”

"A month and I don't tell Shiro _or_ Hunk."

"Two weeks and tell no-one."

"Three, and I don't tell anyone or come this way after nine."

Lance grimaced, offering his hand. “Deal. You’re a cold-hearted monster.”

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Lance," she agreed smoothly. They shook on it, then Pidge shuffled the box from her hip into his hands. “Here. Now give me five minutes to get clear before you start, or I’m telling everyone how you scarred me for life.”

Lance made a strangled noise there’s no name for, fumbling and only just saving the box from a sharp drop. Pidge giggled as she practically skipped around the corner; doubtless gleeful to be free of all scrubbing, polishing and college anecdotes of Coran’s for the near future. Lance groaned, head dropping against the door as he leant against it, eyes closed.

It fell away, and Lance shrieked as he pitched backwards into a warm arm.

“Pidge has gone then,” Keith said, grinning as Lance looked up at him, dipped like a girl in an old-timey movie. His mouth was a little dry. He chose to believe it was surprise and not the strength in the bicep holding him up.

“Yeah. Yeah, she has,” he managed weakly as Keith set him right. “Uh. Can I come in?”

Keith smirked, and Lance wished it wasn’t sexy. It totally was. “You are in,” Keith said, gesturing. The sliding door had closed behind them. Lance jumped. Okay. Alone with Keith. All part of the plan.

“Right. Right, cool.”

“Did you want something?” Keith asked, returning to sit on his bed. He was dressed too, even still wearing his gloves. His Galra knife was on the pillow.

“Oh, uh, yeah, right,” Lance babbled. He hated babbling. He was supposed to be loverboy Lance, he could handle this. Handling Keith was basically what he had in mind, if he could stop dying of his own awkwardness anytime soon. “I just thought we could hang out.”

Keith hesitated, and big ‘abort’ sirens sounded in Lance’s head. He needed to get out of here before Keith said no.

“Unless you’re tired! It's pretty late, I guess you wanna sleep. I'll -”

“No!” Keith said quickly. His eyes darted from Lance’s. “We can hang out. If you want.”

He always did that. Said ‘if’. As if there was anywhere Lance would rather be. “Great,” Lance said, putting down the box and hopping into the bunk. He was careful to sit close, and Keith turned to face him, setting his knife safely on the floor. They looked at each other, just a few too many seconds passing to be natural.

Huh. There was no good way of bringing this up, was there?

“You should really get some pictures in here or something. Where’s your stuff?”

Keith frowned. “My jacket’s hanging up and my pyjamas are in the closet with my armour,” he recounted, seriously. “Why?”

“Not that stuff, your _stuff,_ ” Lance flapped a hand by way of explanation. “Photos, mementos, cool rocks and whatever. My room’s full of them.”

“What do you need rocks for?”

“Fun.”

“You need rocks for fun?”

“It’s to make the place cosy. And lived in, and _yours_ ,” Lance explained. “Like... like putting posters up in your bedroom.”

“I never did that.”

Lance bit his tongue on his own tactlessness, smiling through it anyway. “Well, I’m totally giving you some photos to put up. Then you can look at my gorgeous face all day.” He fluttered his eyelashes, framing his chin with his hands, and Keith’s mouth twitched, eyes crinkling.

“Sure. Thanks.”

Lance shuffled. Still no good way to say it. “So... you good? Been busy?”

“I trained a bit more after you left,” Keith said, oblivious to Lance’s eyes lingering on the evidence of all that effort moving under the cotton of his t-shirt. His mouth was still dry, what was up with that? “Think I can beat the next level of the gladiator now.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

More silence. Lance should have planned ahead. Or at least come up with a more detailed plan than ‘go to Keith. Get answers’.

Keith’s gaze wandered; he tipped it at the floor. “What’s in the box?”

Lance blinked, having forgotten about it. He was... distracted. "No idea. Pidge gave it to me just now."

Keith gave him a flat look, and he picked it up. It was oddly light; an Altean thing of smooth grey lines, and Lance had to lift it and squint before finding the catch. He flicked it with his thumb and popped the lid -

" _Gah!_ "

\- and slammed it shut.

Keith stared. "What's wrong? What's in it?"

"Nothing!" Lance said quickly, holding the box away from Keith, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "It's nothing, seriously. Just Pidge stuff. Yeah."

"Gimme that," Keith snapped, snatching for it.

"No way!" Lance curled away from Keith and used every fraction of his greater reach to keep it from him. He had to scramble, feet kicking against the covers, but Keith bunched his legs and leapt sideways; effectively pinning Lance to the mattress beneath him. Which was rather lovely, actually, and all the thrashing and wriggling they were doing was rubbing bits of Keith against him in ways that would have been extremely interesting if he wasn't currently terrified.

Keith had the advantage of being on top, and there was only so far Lance could stretch without hitting the walls of the bunk cubby hole. Plus, he was too preoccupied with the rest of Keith's body to put up much of a fight against his hands, so the box was stolen from him. Keith rolled off Lance clutching it, striding away to escape, and Lance didn't bother following. He was unlikely to get it back in time and wasn't sure he could stand up anyway. He buried his face in his hands instead.

"I swear it wasn't me, okay? Pidge gave that to me; it wasn't my idea."

Peering between his fingers, Lance saw Keith had got the box open and was peering at a shiny, silvery packet in one hand.

"Oh," he said, and the clench of Lance's gut twisted him into a ball. "These are... condoms?"

Lance groaned.

Keith flipped the packet over. "How did Pidge get condoms in space?"

"That's your problem with this?" Lance burst out, waving his hands. "Pidge gives us a box of condoms to use and your big issue is how she found them?"

"Hey-" Keith said, frowning at him. Lance was obliged to hide his face in his hands again. "-I just don't like the idea of Pidge going looking for condoms on her own, okay? Are you happy about that?"

"I - no," Lance admitted, as a whole new avenue of truly terrible questions opened up to him, "but I was more..." he trailed off when Keith dropped the condom back into the box and pulled out a long, cylindrical bottle. Keith squinted at it, shaking it.

"What's this?"

"Lube," Lance moaned, his head sinking between his knees. "I'm going to kill Pidge."

"Oh. Oh right, yeah."

Lance heard the light thump as Keith put the box down. Red and white boots walked into his vision and the mattress dipped to his right.

"It's okay," Keith said.

"Is it?" Lance asked the floor, bitterly. He sighed. "I'm surprised you haven't kicked me out."

"You said it was Pidge's idea."

"It was!" His head snapped up so he could stare beseechingly at Keith, but he only lasted for a moment under the dark purplish gaze before he was looking away again. Quiznak, he was a terrible liar. What possessed his Mom to raise him honest? Honesty was going to get his beautiful ass kicked. He took a few deep breaths to brace himself first. "But, uh. I can’t pretend it hasn’t... you know... crossed my mind. Once or twice. A few times?” Or nearly every night he slept, every time they touched for more than seconds.

"Oh."

Lance cringed. He counted ticks. He got up as high as fifteen before he risked facing Keith. His boyfriend was very pink now, staring at a fixed point on the entirely empty wall opposite. Lance heard him swallow, tracked the movement in the column of his throat.

"Me too," Keith admitted.

" _Really?_ "

Keith glared. "Hey, I’m older than you are."

"Not by much, and it's not like it matters!" Lance answered automatically, watching the pink tinge deepen towards red and trickle down over Keith's cheeks. "And uh, it has? I mean you have? About _me_?"

Another swallow flexed the skin. "Yeah." Keith’s knuckles bleached white as he gripped the edge of the mattress. "Quite a lot."

Lance's toes curled into his slippers. That was, okay wow, yeah, that was interesting. So interesting he was pretty sure his internal organs were rearranging themselves to make room for the revelation. “Holy Crow,” he croaked, his voice being involved with all the adjustments going on. “Are you... sure?”

“Pretty sure I know what a wet dream is, Lance,” Keith said deadpan, and he waited for Lance’s wheezing to finish before pushing on. “Why?”

“It’s just...” Lance flapped a hand again, gesturing at the air that was stubbornly refusing to help him. Jerk. “You always stop, that’s all.”

“Stop?”

“When we’re... whenever it’s getting good, you stop. Even if nothing else happens, you just... stop.” He used to know more words than this, he was sure. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to. Or I was doing something wrong, or there was something wrong with me -”

“No,” Keith interrupted, sharp. He grabbed Lance’s hand, lacing their fingers. “There is nothing wrong with you, okay?” he pressed, with the same intensity Keith threw into everything he cared about. Himself included, it seemed. “It’s just...” he trailed off, sighing and pushing his hair back. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I don’t know what’s allowed.”

“Allowed?”

Keith just looked at him, waiting for him to get it. He did, in big clumps. “Oh. OH. _Allowed._ Everything.”

“You what?”

“Everything’s allowed,” Lance repeated. He was blushing; his complexion was a goner. Steam would be coming out of his ears soon. At least Keith looked just as bad. “Uh, I mean I think so? I haven’t actually... either, so I don’t know for sure. But everything seems good -” he rattled on as Keith stared, perfect indigo circular. “- and I guess if it’s not, I’ll just say? Like, tell you? Yeah. That’d work.” His mouth came to a halt, burning. Keith was still transfixed and wide-eyed, and this was the single most excruciating moment of his life, including all the fuss involved in them getting together in the first place. “I mean... if you want to?”

Keith blinked. “Are you seriously asking if I want to have sex with you right now?”

“ _Right now?_ ” Lance squeaked. “It doesn’t have to be right now... oh. You meant the question. Yes. Yes, that’s what I’m asking.”

“Right,” Keith said, nodding. “I do.”

“ _You do?!_ ”

“I thought we’d established this, Lance!”

“Well forgive me for being excited, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for months!” Shame flooded Lance’s stomach as Keith gaped. “I... should not have said that. Right. Quiznak.”

There was a pause. A pause long enough for Lance to drop through the floor.

Keith winced. "You're squeezing my hand."

Lance dropped it. "Sorry, sorry. I'll shut up. Forget I said anything. I'm gonna go kill Pidge now."

"Sit down," Keith ordered, grabbing Lance's wrist to pull him back to the bed. Lance bounced, holding his breath. Keith stared down the wall again, shuffling his feet. "We can talk about it. If you want."

Was he still breathing? Lance wasn't sure. His lungs were certainly burning as much as his face, as if his body had gone into meltdown to try and escape this conversation. But Keith's hand slid from his wrist back into his, and something about the feel of warmed old leather against his palm and between his fingers kept him sitting there.

"I kinda... don’t really know what else to say,” he admitted at last. “I just wanted to tell you I’d be up for doing some of that stuff. With you. In the future. Or whenever you want, really.”

Keith’s mouth curled up into a smirk that did funny things to his insides. Like stealing his breath and melting his bones to jelly. “Whenever I want?” he prompted, voice laden with something dark that was really working for Lance, oh boy.

“Yeah?” he said, high-pitched, shuddering.

“Hmmm. I don’t think we’d have time.”

He couldn’t help it; he laughed. He laughed, and Keith’s smile stretched from a smirk to a flushed, pleased grin, tension falling away from his shoulders. “Awesome,” Lance said, leaning into his boyfriend’s side. Which was nice, but it wasn’t enough, and Lance let his relieved high make him bold; he turned and swung his leg around so he was sitting on Keith's lap, the slightly shorter Paladin's eyes level with his chin. Keith started, but his hands found Lance’s waist anyway; light pressure to keep him steady. Shades of violet tinged with surprise softened as Lance smiled and smiled, giddy as he wrapped his arms around Keith's neck. “Awesome.”

Something nervous that sounded a bit like a laugh of his own escaped Keith. He rested his forehead against Lance's collar-bone, and Lance shivered as breath slid under his pyjama shirt. 

"I love you," Lance murmured, drawing his arms tighter, dragging himself a little closer, nearer to the heated air caressing his chest. He actually felt it when Keith closed his eyes, the faintest tickle of eyelashes on his skin. Keith's hands moved to rest against his back, and Lance couldn't help but press against them a little, just to feel how strong he was. And well, it was Keith: it was plenty strong. "For the record," Lance said thoughtfully, Keith's head comfortably tucked under his chin, "seeing as it turned out like this, I'm actually pretty grateful to Pidge."

Keith chuckled into his chest, filling it with happy bubbles.

"Do you think we'll use them all?"

" _Keith!_ "

The Red Paladin sniggered, and it was only his arms against Lance's back that stopped the Blue Paladin falling off his lap. Lance clutched at his shoulders anyway, pouting. "I can't believe you."

"I can't believe it either." Keith murmured, then met Lance's eyes, politely ignoring it when Lance sucked in a breath. "Do you still want to talk about it?"

"Yeah." Lance shakily let go, resting his hands on his boyfriend’s belly and trusting him not to let him fall. "We really should."

"Do you want to sit down again?"

"I am sitting," Lance pointed out, hopeful. Keith hugged him a little tighter and hid his head on Lance's chest again.

For a while, they just sat there, breathing in each other's space. Lance's hands crept forward to cling onto Keith's t-shirt.

"I guess you know I haven’t done anything before," Keith said, speaking to Lance's navel. Lance's navel was as shocked as the rest of him.

"Anything at all?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously?"

"Lance, until Voltron I was living in the desert. Alone."

"But you're _Keith_!" Lance protested, squirming until Keith had to look up. "You're gorgeous! How come you  never -"

Keith scowled. "I just never, okay! I wasn't interested before." Keith's gaze shrank away from Lance's once more. "I should drop you," he grumbled.

Lance grabbed fistfuls of t-shirt high on Keith's back. "Don't! I didn't mean it like that, I just thought someone would’ve - " Oh quiznak, he'd messed up, hadn't he? Keith was scowling and he'd hurt him and everything was going so well... " - besides, I haven't either, so we're the same." Lance barged on, fear making his tongue run. It was Keith's turn to be surprised.

"You haven't? You always acted like -"

"- it's unbelievable, I know."

Keith went silent, then pressed his whole face against Lance's chest. Lance could feel his nose getting squashed. "Buhthendyunowhitchyuwontabe?"

"Gonna be honest buddy, I have no idea what you're asking."

Keith drew back just enough to breathe. "Do you know which you want to be?" he demanded, too loud.

"What?" Keith didn't answer. Tick tick tick and Lance figured it out, air rushing out of him like a leaky hose. "Oh my quiznak, you're asking _me_?"

"It's not like I can ask anyone else!" Keith hissed, promptly mashing his face against Lance's sternum again.

Lance's head was swimming. There had to be a maximum number of revolutionary conversations a guy could withstand in one evening, and Lance was rapidly approaching the limit. "Sorry, sorry, I just kind of assumed you'd have a preference."

Keith seemed to be attempting to escape the awkwardness by burrowing directly through Lance's torso, and Lance couldn't say he blamed him. But he was pretty sure Keith could hear his pounding heartbeat from there, and suddenly he wasn't sure if staying in Keith's lap for this particular chat was the smartest plan he'd ever had. He kinda had a history with not-so-smart ‘smart’ plans.

" ‘S not like I've tried either," Keith muttered. His face was tugging on Lance's pyjama top; he got shivers over his exposed neck.

"We could," he heard himself say, as if through a haze, "We could try both. If you wanted."

Keith nodded, pulling at Lance's pyjamas even further. "Makes sense." He looked up, forcing Lance to peer down his nose when Keith rested his chin on Lance's chest. "When shall we do it?"

"Holy Crow!" said Lance, pitching forward to put his hands over his face, arms around Keith's shoulders. The poor paladin was left with his arms sticking awkwardly out sideways as though he was attempting the chicken dance, face squished somewhere between them.

"Keeeeiith," Lance whined, "you can't just say stuff like that, man! You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

"You're the one who wanted to talk about it," Keith protested, shifting to get them both comfortable once more.

"Yeah, but _generally_. I didn't even know ‘til today you'd say yes!"

Keith snorted. "Like I'd say no."

Lance stared. "Cheese biscuits. You mean it."

"Yes," Keith snapped, but his face was red and a total giveaway, "and if you wanna stay in my lap we're going to need to talk about it _faster_."

Lance redirected his attention for a moment and then squeaked like one of the mice. “Keith, are you hard?”

“I’m _nineteen_ , Lance!” Keith snapped. His hands clamped down onto Lance’s hips with an amount of force that hey, that was sexy too, effectively holding him still.  “Besides,” Keith went on, and now Lance could hear that he was breathing just a bit too hard, could feel it in the air. “So are you.”

“Well I am _now_!” Lance retorted, pretending that the low rumble of Keith’s voice and the expression on his face wasn’t making the problem worse.

“Hey,” said Keith, and all the forces of the universe probably couldn’t help Lance now, because Keith was managing to smirk confidently and blush at the same time, and his fingertips flexed reflexively into Lance’s muscle. “You started this by sitting on me. After coming to my room at night with a box of condoms and lube.”

“ _Pidge gave me those!_ ”

“Yeah, but you came to see me by yourself.”

“I… uh, yeah,” he admitted, because not admitting to things when Keith was looking at him like that was just beyond him right now. Slowly, jerkily, he twitched his hips forward. Keith groaned, head falling backwards, and Lance gasped as he felt his length through denim and soft pyjama fabric. “You… you’re not complaining.” He was aiming for sultry, but he just sounded nervous.

“I am definitely not complaining,” Keith agreed, tilting his head back up. “I… can I kiss you?”

Lance nodded rapidly. Doing was definitely better than thinking; thinking was embarrassing and terrifying and he’d really prefer it if Keith just kept making noises. “You never have to ask.”

Sweet shyness didn’t last long. Lance wouldn’t have been able to stand it anyway; literally every particle of him was screaming to grab hold of a bit of Keith and not let go. He ended up with a hand buried in his mullet, the other grasping the back of his top like a life-line in a storm. Keith kissed him like he was drowning, and Lance knew he’d found a favourite.

Keith did s _omething_ , moved _somehow_ that sent a jolt rocketing straight up Lance’s spine.

“Is this good?” he asked, and he sounded like he was actually panting now.

“Yes yes yes definitely good,” Lance replied, half unintelligible, immediately going breathless when Keith did that _thing_ again.

Lance knew Keith wasn’t a patient man, and he was never more grateful than when frantic rocking motions turned to a frustrated hiss, and then Keith’s hands left his hips to yank the black t-shirt off, dumping it on the floor. His hair stood up like an angry cat’s, already rucked up from Lance’s grip.

It didn’t even occur to Lance to hide his ogling. Keith’s skin was nearly hairless and smooth, silvery patches over old and new scars. A dark line of hair trailed down and out of sight. Lance gulped at the bulge.

“Can I see you too?” Keith asked, hands making their way towards his hips again.

He didn’t look as good as Keith; he knew he didn’t. But he also knew this was kind of now or never; that refusing now would probably stall and ruin what was shaping up to be the best night of his life. So Lance nodded, shrugging out of the robe and reaching back to pull on his collar while Keith’s hands moved to lift the fabric up.

“It’s stuck.”

“You’re sitting on it.”

“Just wait, I can -”

“Don’t bounce! Just stand up!”

“Fine!”

Lance staggered to his feet, which was probably a mistake. It certainly felt like one; not just because his erection was very obviously tenting his pyjama bottoms but because it meant he was left on display for Keith like a prize. He pulled the top off as quickly as possible, leaving it bundled tight in his hands, waiting for his boyfriend to speak.

“You’re so beautiful,” Keith muttered thickly, like he had a mouthful of goo. Lance was pretty sure he flushed to the roots of his hair.

“You too, Samurai,” he said instead, faking a massive wink. Keith peeked under his hand, sweeping his fringe back. He looked like he was about to say something in response, but purple eyes were drawn down Lance’s front when brown hands went to his waistband.

“Are you going to...?”

Lance nearly choked on another big wink, won brain reeling away from what he was saying. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Keith actually did choke, hand clamping over his eyes again. “You can’t be serious.”

“What’s up, intimidated?”

“ _No_ ,” Keith growled, and wow, that was another button, right there. “No, I’m not – Lance _stop.”_ Body-warm leather closed around Lance’s wrists: another button pushed.  Since when did he have so many? He felt like a control panel. Keith steadied himself before fixing Lance with a gaze as piercing as the dagger on the floor. “Is this what you want?” he asked, and were his hands shaking? They might be shaking, Holy Crow, this was Keith, _he_ was doing this to Keith. “Is this how you want this to happen?”

Lance’s stomach squirmed like a live thing. He swallowed. “Not... all the way. Yet. Tonight. But... maybe something else?” Air spun reeling into his head when Keith released his wrists and bare thumbs dipped just under the fabric at his waist; following the crease of his hips. Nails pressed against the skin. 

“Can I?”

“Ye-yeah.”

He closed his eyes when Keith’s hands pushed low enough into his pyjama bottoms to make them drop, the tingle up his spine not entirely due to the sudden chill. Through the throbbing in his ears he thought he heard Keith’s breathing catch and stumble, a sudden inhale he really hoped was positive. He only dared crack an eye when Keith’s fingers on his hip gently urged him forwards. He stumbled in the fabric pooled on his feet and tripped on his slippers, and had to be held up until he was guided onto Keith’s lap again. The rough denim pressed patterns into his skin, scratchy.

“So beautiful,” Keith murmured against his clavicle, hands brushing feverishly up his ribs, down again and along his thighs. “You’re just so beautiful.”

“Y-yeah?” Lance stammered, distracted by the way Keith’s little callouses dragged on his skin. “Okay. Good. You too.” He hoped his touch was more convincing than his voice, one arm hooking around Keith’s shoulder for stability and other hand settling back on Keith’s belly. Hard muscle flinched away at first; wiry hair rubbing against Lance’s palm. Keith made another noise of the interesting variety, and Lance looked down. “You… want this open?” he asked, pretending not be nervous, hand sliding just far enough to make it obvious what he meant. The lump in Keith’s trousers looked outright painful.

His boyfriend nodded rather than spoke, still moving his hands smoothly over Lance’s sides and back; chasing air from his chest in startled breaths and shivers. It was Keith’s turn to gasp when Lance pulled on the zip, the sound of it dirty and loud between them. The Red Paladin groaned in a way that made Lance’s insides clench. Leather brushed past him as Keith moved to free himself from his boxers, gripping hard onto Lance’s hip as he did. Lance _liked_ that.

He yipped when he felt the first tentative touch of fingertips on his cock, hand leaping to his mouth.

“Can… can I?” Keith asked, voice deep and shaking. Lance nodded slowly, forcing himself to pull his palm from his face and back to Keith; hand closing over hair stuck to his shoulder. He sucked in air sharply over his teeth when Keith touched him again, surer and warmer than before. It was almost too strange at first, too raw; then a hand was clasped round him with just the right amount of pressure, and it was pure heaven. Lance’s head lolled back and his eyes closed behind quaking lashes, and for a while he just thrilled in his own skin until he thought to worry about what he ought to be doing for Keith right now.

His boyfriend was staring at him with lidded eyes, all of his attention - that incredible focus that was entirely Keith’s - lavished on his own face. It was dizzying, enough to make his stomach swoop and lift, and it was unbearable to stay under without _more_.

“Kiss me,” Lance demanded, words hitching when Keith squeezed; the increased friction on his length sending jolts through his middle. They threw their mouths together, and no matter how Keith’s tongue hungrily curled into his own it wasn’t enough. When they broke for gasping air Lance dragged his mouth across Keith’s face and around his jaw, kissing and lathing until he tasted the skin of Keith’s neck. Colour bloomed on the pale skin under his teeth, and his boyfriend cried out in a way that made Lance writhe.

“You too,” Lance insisted, using the moment to worm his hand next to Keith’s. “Both of us.”

It was awkward as their knuckles clashed, unseen in the hot gap between them, full of panted air and sweat and promise. Keith moaned low into Lance’s chest when they managed to work it out, fingers lacing as they pushed their lengths together; velvet soft and throbbing. It took a few awkward, jerky pulls for them to find their rhythm, and as soon as they did Lance knew he wouldn’t last long. Little cries pushed past his lips with every draw, and Keith wasn’t much better, hot puffs of air escaping his open mouth in time. He was still focused on Lance’s face. They pressed as close together as they could without stopping, and the slide of skin on skin made everything _better_. Keith came first, but Lance followed with a whimper when he felt the hot release splash on his abs.

They sat there, just breathing, hands slackening off, until Lance was aware of the scratchy denim under his legs again, and the way his bony butt must be pressing into Keith’s knees. He couldn’t help but glance down himself, shivering under the rapidly cooling white mess.

“Sticky.”

Keith didn’t answer, apparently not ready for speech yet. Which was fine with Lance, who didn’t want to know what Keith really thought of that spectacularly unnecessary and unromantic comment.

“I need a shower,” he went on, which wasn’t much better. Keith grunted agreement, tipping forward until his forehead rested near Lance’s clavicle. “Keith?”

“Hhmmm?”

“Can I… shower here?”

Keith’s nod pulled on the sweaty hair stuck to Lance’s skin.

“Cool. And… can I stay here?”

Keith looked up, fringe wild, his face still slightly slack as he tried to frown. “Stay?”

“Here,” Lance repeated, the pounding against his ribs only partly due to the exercise. Sexercise? A stupid thing to worry about in the circumstances, probably. “Tonight.”

Keith’s expression cleared into something wondering, awestruck; as though the guy he’d just got off with wanting to cuddle him was something extraordinary. “You want to sleep here?”

Lance shifted, trying to find a more comfortable perch on his boyfriend. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Keith said at last, amazement in his tone. “Okay, let’s do that.”

 

Keith, as it turned out, was a hugger. After he got over lying stiff as a board and motionless, anyway. Now, Lance was stretched on his back, and Keith was curling into a ball next to him with his head resting on the dip between Lance’s chest and shoulder, like he fitted there. Lance thought he did.

“I cannot believe we have to thank Pidge for getting us laid.”

Keith wriggled a shoulder under the covers. He was wearing only pyjama bottoms, it being warm with the two of them crammed into the cubby bunk. He smelled like the standard issue soap and shampoo, the same scent clinging to his own body, along with Keith’s. “I can.”

“She’s gonna be unbearable after this.”

“So don’t tell her,” Keith suggested, hard to hear as he turned his face inwards. Lance curled his arm round him.

“She’ll know.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s Pidge, Keith. She always knows. We’re gonna have to sit through another talk with Shiro.”

“There’s no way I’m telling Shiro,” Keith muttered, his legs tucking in tighter to Lance’s side. The Blue Paladin turned to peer at his boyfriend, knowing full well he had a goofy smile on. Keith was cuddled up like a small animal, and quiznak if that wasn’t the most adorable thing in the whole universe.

“Shiro will know too.”

“Huh?”

“I may have got carried away,” Lance admitted, reaching over and pressing one brown finger into a blue bloom on Keith’s neck. Keith frowned, air blowing through his nose, and lifted a hand to the mark, questing over it. Then he froze.

“Lance, have you given me a _hickey_?”

“Maybe one or two?” he lied, giddily. Keith’s eyes shot wide and he sat up, feeling his way over his skin.

“ _Lance!_ ”

“Hey, you totally enjoyed it!”

Lance was still giggling when Keith pushed him out of bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Now this is out of my system, maybe I can get to work on my Theatre-AU... ;)
> 
> I always love to hear from you; I can be found on twitter @DancingDowager and tumblr @dancingdowager.tumblr.com/


End file.
